Love Can Kill
by Wicked Ravus
Summary: Snape has been having nightmares of murder. But what does this have to do with a rebellious girl at Hogwarts? She's the one threatening him in his nightmares. But what can he do about it, when he's falling in love with her.
1. Lyda

Please Note: This story takes place in the pre-Harry years.

Severus Snape lived his whole life in gray space. He was the potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But he was one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and a naturally cold person. But he wasn't bad. He spies on the Death Eaters for Professor Dumbledore. But the point is, is that Severus Snape lives his life in the gray area.

It wasn't too far into the school year when a new student came to Hogwarts. Apparently she transfered to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons for personal reasons. One Slytherin said that they thought their father knew hers, and that he was a Death Eater. After that news got out, somehow everyone decided her father was on the run from the ministry, and they had to move to London. This seemed to satasfy all her peers, and even some of the teachers, because not even they knew why she suddenly had to come to Hogwarts. But she was accepted all the same, and sorted as soon as she arrived. Her name was Lyda Monroe, and she was sorted into Slytherin.

Lyda had a very striking appearance. People weren't sure whether to consider her pretty or not, but she certainly had an interesting look to her. Her features were very memorable. She had a very thin build, with perfectly rounded hips. Her face was quite slim and angular. Her hair was long and stick straight. Her skin was frail and snow white. She didn't have much color to her face, but a she did have a few freckles flecked around her nose. But the most unusual thing about her was her eyes. They were very gaunt, but instead of being brown or hazel as you might think with her noticably dark hair, they were glassy and bright blue.

She also proved the be an incredibly proficient student. She wasn't really being challenged by her work at all, so Dumbledore came up with the solution to give her a little extra work. He chose a professor to assign her a new reading project each night, and discuss it the next day with them after all her classes were done. Naturally, Snape was chosen to be the professor, because he was the head of her house.

Ms. Monroe, he said to her one day. Please stay after class, I need to talk to you.

She nodded, and waited patiently as the classroom cleared. She walked up to his desk. He was looking through the books of potions on the bookshelf on the back wall.

You wanted to speak with me, Professor?How do you like it here? At Hogwarts, I mean.Um... Sure.Um, sure?Well, yes.Is everyone treating you well?I suppose. Yeah, they are.Do they respect you?They do?Well, they shouldn't.I see. Why is that?

He finally turned around to face her. His hands fell to his desk, and his eyes inches from hers. Ms. Monroe, respect is something you have to earn. You've been here a mere three days. You have not earned anyone's respect.Is that so? I work hard, I get everything done, and I see there is a lack of that sort of dedication in your house. I believe that's enough to earn the respect from everyone one of your students.You may think you're so sagacious. Well you certainly don't have my respect, and never will. Hopefully your peers will wisen up, and feel the same. Now, what was it I had to tell you...He thought for a moment, and seemed to enjoy the expression of emense repugnance across her face. Ah yes. I was going to tell you that I have been chosen to work with you on some special readings. You seem to be ahead of what we're learning, so I get to assign you readings for a night, and we can discuss them the next day.Great, I'm extatic. Can't some other Professor do this?Don't I wish. But sadly, no. I am the head of your house. Professor Dumbledore asked me. So, I expect you to read the first three chapters of Your Perfect Lethal Draughts and we will discuss it after you have potions. I believe that would be your free time before lunch?I didn't use it anyway, she said rolling her eyes.

So it's settled then. I'll see you tomorrow.Yeah, sure. I have to go now.Leave then.I am.

She was just about to walk out, when Snape spoke. I think I know your father.I bet you do, she said coldly. I can't believe you're one of them.It's not the way you think, you know.Sure. You're all the same.  
So I take it you and your dad don't get along?That's personal. She paused. I just know I won't turn out like that.

Snape was silent, then turned back to his potions books, and Lyda left.


	2. Life Lessons

Please Note: This story takes place in the pre-Harry years.

Lyda stayed up late that night. The first few chapters turned out to be almost fifty pages each, with very small text. Not even a diagram or photo in sight. The text was dull and uninformative. But Lyda read through it word for word, meticulously reviewing each detail, not because she found the information the least bit interesting, but she was looking forward to proving that she could outwit what she thought Snape was trying to do.

She didn't understand what his problem was. Was it that he couldn't stand anyone who automatically had more respect than he probably ever had in school? It was most likely something that had to do with her father. Before even coming to this school, she'd heard Jacques Monroe talk about Snape. She couldn't recall what he said. It was all a bit of a blur, but she did remember many times he'd come home and viciously rant about him. Why couldn't she remember what he said?

But she assumed the feelings were mutual with Snape. That was his problem though. Not having his respect didn't kill her. Besides, she didn't respect him one bit. He was a Death Eater. How could Professor Dumbledore not see that? And if he knows, why doesn't he just sack him? He must not know. She vowed to herself that she'd tell the headmaster that he was a Death Eater if Snape ever really pissed her off.

She smirked as she thought about the look on his if Dumbledore were to sack him in front of the whole school. Then watching him walk out into the cold world, and the Dark Lord coming up to him in the middle of the street and blowing his head off. This left her feeling happy all through potions, despite the fact that Snape gave her detention for daydreaming, but refused to just take away fifty points from Slytherin (obviously because it was his own house). That was one good thing about being in his house, but it's not like she cared about winning the house cup, especially for someone she loathed.

Finally, potions was over, but unfortunately, she still had another tedious hour of discussing the first few chapters of Your Perfect Lethal Draught.

She remained in her seat, hoping all of her classmates would notice the fatigued look on her face as they left. As soon as everyone was entirely out the door, Snape waltzed up and shut it with a loud slam that made Lyda's heart sink.

I'm assuming from the rather afflicted look on your face that you disliked the book, he said.

No, I didn't care for...It wasn't a question, Ms. Monroe, he said sharply. Nonetheless, we must discuss it in a civilized manner.I'll try my best, Professor.

He smirked. You know, it hasn't even been a week, but I am beginning to enjoy that scornful tone of yours.I wish I could say the same for you Professor, but I find your satire a bit tiring, if you don't mind me saying.

He shook his head, closing his eyes. I show an attempt at being understanding, and she shoves it back in my face.

Lyda just glared. She wasn't entertained by this at all, though obviously Snape was. As he had said, she hadn't even been here for a week, and she already hated him. Even if her father was wrong about everything else, he was right about something. This man was just downright repulsive. Let's just talk about the book and get it over with.Oh, right. Indeed, we'd best work on what we're supposed to. So, what was it that you found to be uninteresting?I never said it was uninteresting.Ms. Monroe, if there's one thing I have learned from teaching, it's how to read expressions. Now, what did you dislike?Well, the overall context in which it was written was really dull. I mean, the way it was written, he author might as well have written a laundry list of facts. I had to continuously re-read selections to actually get any information to stick with me.Well, that is your first lesson for this little learning experience.What's that, What not to read?No. That you can't always get what you want. I don't care how well you comprehend the readings I give you. This is all about the lessons you get from them. And I knew we had to start with the fact that life's tough. It's going to be dull. You're going to have to do things you don't want to.I realize that. That's why I read through it to the best of my ability... and my attention span.Well then, if you've learned anything from me at all this year, you seditious know-it-all, you've learned that. Or at least, you've used it in the real world. Now, since part of my job does happen to be to teach you some of the information in the reading, is there anything you don't understand? Anything you need clarification on? br /

Lyda crossed her arms, rubbing her palms up and down her forearms to keep herself warm. It was so chilly in his dungeons. She was so furious right now, though. He was trying to teach her about life. Ha! That was a good one. He was on His side. He actually chose to be on his side. She shook her head. The only question I have is why you feel like I am unprepared for life. I've learned some of the toughest lessons of life the hard way. You have absolutely know idea! Then you come in here and try to tell me life is hard. Oh, I'm sure you know so much about that. Every day the threat of the Dark Lord dies a little, and you could be caught any day. But that was your choice. It wasn't my choice to have my dad be who he is.

Snape's face was twisted with rage. If only this insolent little girl knew! Then she would never dare say those things. You have no idea what you're saying, he spat. Ask your precious father! The one you use as your excuse! He's the only line between your miserable life, and mine. You think your father told you everything about me. But if he really told you everything, you wouldn't know what you were saying! Now get out of my office this instant! And don't you dare come back until you're ready to take back your accusations!Then I'll take that as a reason never to come back! The next time I set foot into this room, you'll be fired!


	3. Nightmare 1

Please Note: This story takes place in the pre-Harry years.

Also, I apologize for how short this chapter is.

The nerve of that child! That was the only thing across Snape's mind for the rest of the day. It made him in an even worse mood than usual, and that was saying something. He began to wonder what it was her father was saying about him at home? Her father had always been suspicious of him as a spy for the Order. He'd gotten on the Dark Lord's bad side with his theories about him. He must have not mentioned those theories to his daughter. But he obviously told her something about him. She knew he was a Death Eater, nothing more.

But if she really hated Death Eaters, why would she hate him? I mean, compared to her father. He was an eerie man. Just creepy-looking, creepy-acting. Very dark and scary. Just being around him made you uncomfortable. He was certainly an odd one.

Snape went through all of dinner and the rest of the night with these thoughts. When he finally went to bed, he fell uneasily into sleep, his thoughts still focused on rage and the distressing image of Mr. Monroe in his head. But soon he was wrenched out of thought by a sickening scream.

He quickly jerked his head up in confusion, his eardrums pounded from the bloodcurdling high note. He looked around in the darkness. Suddenly, he heard soft muttering, pleading.

He slowly reached for his wand. he whispered under his breath. As soon as light was cast around his shadowy chambers, he lifted his head, trying to listen harder.

He went to the door and pressed his head against the cold wooden front. It sent a shiver down his spine just to touch the rough splintery wood, and for it to feel so unusually cold. He could hear the voice clearer now. But the closer he listened, he began to think there was two voices. But they sounded so similar, he couldn't tell. He paused for a moment, deciding whether or not he should follow the voice(s), or to just go back to sleep and pretend he never heard a thing. But what could possibly happen? He was a professor at this school. He was supposed to be responsible.

He shut his eyes tight, hoping it would make him feel better about opening a creaky door in the middle of what felt like an overly ironic muggle horror flick. When his eyes opened, he found the corridor to look completely normal. In fact, even the voices had ceased. He took one last look around, before turning to go back. But just as he did, he heard another bloodcurdling scream, and it was coming right from his classroom.

He held his wand high, and rushed towards his classroom. The door was open ajar, and a steady stream of red light was flooding from the room, like flowing blood on the stone floor. He raised his wand higher still, and threw open the door.

The first thing he saw made him sick to his stomach. A girl, pale and almost albino-looking, was hung from her neck from one of the wooden beams across the celling. The rope was slowly cutting into her neck, and blood was pouring from her pertruding vains. She wore a completely sheer white dress, that would have looked almost opaque against her pure white skin, had the skin not been drenched and stained with blood from the knife in her breast.

He clutched his stomach, close to vomitting. The sick sight of this dead girl made him so uneasy and afraid. This couldn't be real. This just couldn't be!

He shook himself, his whole body feeling like jelly. Who had done this? He took slow shaky steps towards the girl. His breathing was quick and uneven. He looked closer at the girl, and almost fainted with shock as he realized the girl's eyes were open. They were so white, they looked exactly like her eyelids. But as he looked closer, red vains speckled the cornea.

Then he came to another horrifying realization. She looked exactly like a pure white Lyda Monroe. He choked clumsily on his breath as he caught it. Carefully he moved closer to the corpse. But with her eyes opened and so white, he couldn't tell with she was alive, or if her eyes were as lifeless and glazed as they looked. He touched her face, but it was stone cold. He pulled away, and looked at his bloodstained hand. It burned his flesh. She was surelly listless.

He looked around, not sure what to do. Should he go to Dumbledore? What had happened? Was this strange girl really Lyda? He turned back towards the door, but the second he did, another girl stood in his way, her face inches from his. The face was so similar to the corpse's, so similar to... Lyda.

He cried aloud, and backed away. He backed all the way up into the hanging corpse, which covered him with blood.

The girl's raven black hair was snarled and long. Her eyes red and burning, and her face flushed rose. Her two incisor teeth were long, jagged and bloodstained. She flashed them as she spoke the words, You're next.


End file.
